Lxxxv

A word, and I have done. Is it not just our hate of falsehood, fleetingness, And the mere part, things play, that constitutes express The inmost charm of this Fifine and all her tribe? Actors! We also act, but only they inscribe Their style and title so, and preface, only they, Performance with "A lie is all we do or say." Wherein but there can be the attraction, Falsehood's bribe, That wins so surely o'er to Fifine and her tribe The liking, nay the love of who hate Falsehood most, Except that these alone of mankind make their boast "Frankly, we simulate!" To feign, means--to have grace And so get gratitude! This ruler of the race, Crowned, sceptred, stoled to suit,--'t is not that you detect The cobbler in the king, but that he makes effect By seeming the reverse of what you know to be The man, the mind, whole form, fashion, and quality. Mistake his false for true, one minute,--there 's an end Of the admiration! Truth, we grieve at or rejoice: 'T is only falsehood, plain in gesture, look and voice, That brings the praise desired, since profit comes thereby. The histrionic truth is in the natural lie. Because the man who wept the tears was, all the time, Happy enough; because the other man, a-grime With guilt was, at the least, as white as I and you; Because the timid type of bashful maidhood, who Starts at her own pure shade, already numbers seven Born babes and, in a month, will turn their odd to even; Because the saucy prince would prove, could you unfurl Some yards of wrap, a meek and meritorious girl-- Precisely as you see success attained by each O' the mimes, do you approve, not foolishly impeach The falsehood!